


The Dark One isn't a Cat Person

by cannibalisticshadows



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Cats, Crack, Curses, Don't Examine This Too Closely, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Animal Abuse, Rated for Language and Suggestive Themes, it's not by much tho, poor attempt at humor, short and fluffy one shots mostly, so much crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 16:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13884621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibalisticshadows/pseuds/cannibalisticshadows
Summary: Well, or so he thought.





	1. Here, Kitty, Kitty

Regina wasn’t sure what to do with the obnoxious little ex-maid in her tower, once her curse hit. Throwing her into a cell in some asylum sounded like the perfect plan. Yet, it also sounded too perfect. Almost like a paradise, with the girl safe and sound in a cell. No, no, Regina had to do something worse. Something much more… fitting.

“You were more of a pet to him than anything,” the queen mocked, laughing at her own observation, and the truth of it, as she picked at her nails at the girl’s door. What was her name again? Margie? Verna? It didn’t matter. She was just a sweet piece of eye candy for good old’ Rumple, anyway. 

“That’s not true,” the girl seethed. “He loves me as much as I love him! He’s just… He’s just…”

“H-H-He’s just not your Twu Luv?” Regina mimicked a frightened voice with a flare of the Dark One in the tone. She laughed harshly at that, amused by the girl’s frustrated expression. No matter what the queen did, she never managed to get the girl to cry. Oh poo.

Flicking her hair back, the extravagant woman sashayed down the tower to her sitting room, where guards were standing guard most dutifully. With all the drama she possessed, she collapsed onto her chaise longue in a slouched position, where she could gaze out one of the large floor-to-ceiling windows she possessed. There, she opened up one of her spell books and read until she fell asleep. 

Regina woke an hour later, to find her head guard standing by idly. It was also storming outside, and great clouds boomed overhead most angrily.

“It’s raining cats and dogs out, Your Majesty,” commented the Huntsman, her favorite personal pet, once she regarded him. Regina smirked. Pets, it seemed, was a common topic for her today.

“Speaking of pets,” she began, “go and check on our little prisoner in the tower. I haven’t checked on Rumple’s little puppy for sometime.”

The Hunstman sniffed. Did he even have a name? Well, it didn’t matter. She didn’t care. “I think, Your Majesty, Belle would be anything but a dog.”

“Oh?” How cute. He was trying to make conversation. “Ah. You think she’s a sheep! A little lamp! Haha!”

“No, that’s not—“ He sighed. “I’ll return right away, my Queen.”

“Good, we need to discuss what to do with her once my curse is cast. Ugh, my petty little step-daughter is getting married soon. We need to think fast. Under no circumstance should Rumple know his little pet’s alive, understood?”

“I beg your pardon, but why? You said so yourself that Belle was nothing more than a maid to him.”

Regina was beginning to get irked from her own pet’s gall. “They may have fucked around for all we know. Probably, I think. He thinks her father is responsible for her death, and last I heard Sir Maurice’s little fiefdom is crumbling from drought, a nasty plague, and ogre raids. He probably misses his bed warmer. See, Huntsman, you weren’t ready to marry your beloved doggy but—“

“He was a companion, not a pet—“

“—you still liked him, hmm? I suppose it’s the same thing for Rumple and his little pussy cat—“

Regina paused midsentense.

The Hunstman, prepared to go to the prisoner’s tower, stopped when he saw the queen freeze as if cursed by a spell. He was nearly about to approach her when the woman leap up with a wicked, malicious smile on her face.

“That’s it! I’ve figured it out!”

“Um…?”

“A pussy cat! Haha! That’s it!” She spun around and flicked her hand, causing the man to be pushed backwards by a woosh of magic. He slammed into a wall, starting wide eyed at the queen. “It’s perfect, my dear Huntsman. Oh so perfect!”

“W-What is, Your Majesty?”

“Everyone knows, pet, that if there’s one thing minuscule about the Dark One besides his height, it’s his preference for animals. Did you know he’s rather fond of dogs? For all we know your mutt is soothing it out in the Dark Castle with him! If, that is, he’s still alive anyway.” She chuckled maniacally. “With his little maid prancing around as the one thing he can’t stand, oh! Just imagine, she, the stubborn wench she is, begging for him to save her, when he’s too busy trying to find ways to skin her! Oh, it’s delicious! Perfect! Flawless!”

“I still don’t understand…”

“Oh, my dear,” Regina patted his cheek. “Don’t you know? The Dark One is _not_ a cat person.” 

~.~.~.~

The first time Gold laid on the wretched creature was on a early autumn morning, right as he was bending down to retrieve the weekly paper from his doorstep.

“ _Reow,_ ” squeaked a small sound, unwelcome and unexpected to his ears. Gold looked up, one hand clutching the roll of newspaper in a fist, the other griping his cane, and saw the wee vermin sitting right on his porch like a proud little twat. 

He tsked. The last thing he needed was for some flee-bitten feline to piss or crap in his rose bushes. Flee-bitten seemed to be an exaggeration—no, an incorrect statement—for the cat looked well groomed and kept. Yet it wore no collar or obvious sign it belonged to someone. For that, Gold had every right to kick it off his property.

“Shoo,” he demanded, swatting the paper at the cat. Meowing again, the wee beastie awkwardly stepped backwards as the offending object batted in its face. A unique pair of blue eyes glared at him, but it was brief and the feline was once again trying to fight for his attention.

“Gah, filthy beast, go back home. I’m not a charity,” he barked, hoping to scare it off. What was wrong with it? Could cats be retarted? Annoyed now, Gold stepped backwards to go back inside when, much to his confusion and ire, the four legged animal tried to follow him.

Gold used his good leg to kick the beast under the belly, scooping it up for a brief moment as he booted it a foot or two away. Then he promptly shut the door.

“Damn cats.”

~.~.~

The second time he met the foul feline was when he was attending his rose garden.

Kneeling carful, as to not harm his bad ankle, he snipped at bad branches and such, making sure his prized, private flowers had the best of care. Gold liked to take care of his roses; unlike a person they couldn’t betray or lie to him, and unlike an animal they didn’t smell or make messes or piss on something they shouldn’t. Humming happily, he snipped at another dead branch until he thought the bush was perfect. He smiled and begun to take his gloves off.

“ _Mew._ ”

Gold’s clam façade crumbled like an avalanche. Whipping his head to the side, he saw the vermin waltz up with a seductive sway of its slender hips. A gentle breeze flew by, ruffling the cat’s long chestnut and russet coat. 

A large pair of black-tipped ears flickered back and forth until the creature approached him. There, it sat with its chest out. 

“Oh, God, it’s you again. Can’t you go bother somebody else? I don’t have time to play.”

The cat’s head tilted to the side; it meowed again, and abruptly stretched up to touch his thigh with one tiny, white paw. 

Snarling, he swatted the cat away and scrambled to stand up. Disgusted, he brushed down his pant leg furiously as if the hand of Death had poked him. True, he was working on his garden, but he always took the highest of precautions not to get his clothes dirty. Cats licked their butts and their paws and walked on all fours—filthy!

“Damn cat,” he snapped, waving his cane to scare it away. “Go away!”

But the cat didn’t. Blue, slit-pupil-ed eyes pinned him like a hawk’s watchful gaze and showed no sign of backing down. Again, the cat let out another call and tried to get closer. With a flick of its long tail it rubbed up beside him.

Gold didn’t like that at all. “Oh, now you’ll get hair all over me! I’m wearing black, dearie!” He swatted the cat with his cane again, trying to make it back to his backdoor so he could go into his cat-free zone. “Back, wee beastie!”

The cat was not to be denied—denied what, though, he had no clue. It chirped most curiously and trotted after with its tail straight up in the air, staring up at him over a shiny pink nose and short white muzzle. Gold, panicing at the clearly mad creature, turned and bolted (as best he could while limping) into his house. There, he slammed the backdoor shut so hard the blinds on the window shook, and the door vibrated with the force. His pursuer audibly smacked into the door. It yowled, scratching at the wood.

“Bah, damn cat!”

~.~.~.~

“ _Yeeeeow! Reow! Oooow! Me—Myeeoooow!_ ”

Gold pulled his pillow across his head tighter. Maybe if he pretended to be dead the damn cat would go away.

But it didn’t.

“ _YEeeeowwOWOWoW!!!_ ”

“Shut up!” He barked, throwing the pillow to the window. It was one in the morning and that stupid fucking animal was at his bedroom window—on the second fucking floor—and was screaming its goddamn head off as if it was trying to howl. Or break his window with an ear-pirching screech. So far it was doing a good job of making him go deaf, too.

“Cat, go away!” He groaned and threw his legs over the side of his bed, sitting up as every bone in his body creaked with his age. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

The cat went quiet, sitting on his roof most primly. It waved its tail once, as if waiting. But its eyes were wide with eagerness. 

Gold grabbed his cane and hobbled over. He flung the window open and threw daggers. “Let me sleep, stupid cat!”

“ _Mow! Meo-row!_ ”

“What—“ he was prepared to push the beast off his roof with his cane when, as fast as lightning, the cat leap up and pounced into his house like it owned it. Gold, given no time to act, watched it run under the bed to hide.

He should get down and yank it out, but he was tired. So very very tired. Didn’t he have rent day tomorrow? Lots of walking for him, then. He needed sleep. Fuck, it felt like rent day was everyday. When was the last time he just, didn't do anything besides rent? _I mean, besides the times I put the fear of God in everyone? Well, that's actually fun but--_

“Piss on anything and I _guarantee_ I will find every way to skin you,” he promised before climbing into his bed. Sleep hit him not a second after.


	2. Hairballs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has no direct path, so feel free to hit me with a prompt if you'd like.

“Where the hell is your owner, cat? Shouldn’t you be home bothering them? Go away, for God’s sake. I’m not responsible for you!” Gold told that cat (as if it would listen or understand, ha!) as he lumbered down Main Street. The furry feline, with its long slender coat of fur, trotted beside him with a bright expression on its face as if the fucking Messiah had come at last.

The cat would not leave him alone. And he hated it. He just hated cats in general, in fact. 

Since he could remember Gold had always been a dog person. They were man’s best friend for a reason; loyal, predictable, truthful, useful. He faintly remembers having a sheep dog as a child, but the memory felt… off, like it happened so long ago that it felt more like a dream than a memory. 

Cats were another story. They were the opposite of dogs—sneaky, bossy, aloof little devils meant for lonely old ladies in large amounts. He had no interest in seeing the positive side to the house cat, and vowed never to either. Yet here was this wee beastie, trailing after him like he was a walking food bank. 

Not that he ever fed the damn thing… On purpose. There was that one time—one!—where he was returning home after a very busy day when the ever-annoying and ever-present flee-bag was sitting on his front porch, meowing on the top of its lungs like its life depended on it. He had gone on his rent-collecting rounds and stopped to get some groceries after a few long hours of paperwork, and returned home as if his bed was crying out for him. Gold stepped onto the porch and glared down at the blue-eyed beastie blocking him from getting inside. 

Fed up, he pulled out a can of sardines and popped the square can open. He set it a few feet away from the door so he could actually get into his house.

The cat was grateful, it seemed, and went quiet as it chowed down on the offering.

Gold swore up and down to never give the damn cat another reason to keep coming back! But when was this? It felt like a lifetime ago.

And so, everyday, it seemed to follow him everywhere. Every. Fucking. Where. Why hadn’t he shot it yet?

“Good morning, Mr. Gold,” Henry, the mayor’s son, said quietly as he slipped by the older man and his—it was not his!—cat. 

“Morning, Henry.”

The boy bobbed his head in greeting before his young sharp eyes pinned on the four legged beast beside him. He collaped to his knees and went to pet his— _it wasn’t his, damnit!_ —cat. “Hi, kitty!” He looked up to the older man. “Mr. Gold, have you given her a name, yet?”

Gold didn’t care to know the gender of the cat, but Henry apparently knew it was female. It didn’t matter in the end, but he had expected it to be fixed. The cat didn’t mark on anything or seem to go into heat. But giving it a name was where he drew the line. Names had power, and giving a title to the wee beastie would be to give it power over him—and he had no interest in that. Besides, it wasn’t even his. It just followed him. As far as Gold and the cat were concerned, it’s name was _Cat_. 

The cat chirped as if to greet the boy back, much to Gold’s annoyance. Henry was fond of the wretched creature, though, and often stopped to pet it. “How old is she, Mr. Gold? You’ve had her a while.”

He snorted. A while? It felt like a fucking eternity. Yet it hadn’t, in actuality, been too long had it? Maybe a month since the infuriating feline slithered into his life. “She—It’s not mine, son. Feel more than free to take it.”

Henry’s head tilted to the side. “But you’ve had her since I was little. I remember. Don’t you?” His eyes narrowed onto the small town tycoon. 

Gold’s mind went blank for a moment. Then the thought came to him, suddenly, as if it filled in right when it was needed. “Maybe you’re thinking of another cat, son. I don’t do… pets.”

The boy frowned, but continued to scrunch up the cat’s furry face in his hands. Even standing a foot away, he could hear the cat purring from the attention. Ha, maybe if he leaves now the cat will forget about him…

Gold nodded a mute goodbye to the boy and pivoted on his good ankle, limping smoothly down to street to hide out in his shop. 

But of course, there was no fooling that damn cat. It chirped in surprise and escaped the boy’s cooing to dash after him, like a loyal dog at its master’s heel.

He sighed and shook his head. 

“Damn cat,” he mumbled.

~.~.~.~

Cat was on the highest shelf behind the checkout counter, hanging it head over the ledge with its chin on its tiny white front paws, looking down at him with a tilted head and a tentative stare. It looked very much in place, Gold hated to admit, among his things in the shop. His store was called a pawn but inside, it was clear the place was an antique store. Dust, though, was always in abundance, and the low lighting of his glass lamps with yellowed light bulbs gave it a very ethereal feel. Or terrifying. Some of his tenants visibly began to quake when they stepped over his store’s threshold. 

But Cat, as he began to refer it as, looked like it belonged among his wooden and whimsical knickknacks. The cat’s tiny body seemed as if it was but a kitten, but she hadn’t grown in all the time he knew the damn thing. Its ears, though, were pointy and tall, tipped with black fur. Its coat of fur was unique, a shade of ruddy chestnut—but its muzzle, a tuff of the cat’s chest, and its front paws were white. The oddest thing about it though were its eyes. Blue. Radiant blue.

Maybe he should stuff the wee beastie and mount it up there forever. Might make a decent sale of it someday, too. 

Gold, taking a break from his paperwork, looked up to the shelf with his jaw resting on his hand. There were several reasons he should get rid of the cat: it got hair all over his suits, on the furniture, on his bed; it refused to eat the cat food he set outside his house (hoping to keep it outside), or eat it inside when; it only ate what he ate, after much arguing (him yelling, with Cat hissing or trying to rub its face in his leg). Not to mention he found several dead mice around.

“You’d make an excellent decoration,” he commented darkly. “I hear Jefferson dabbles in taxidermy.”

“ _Reow,_ ” said the cat. 

He shook his head. God, he really shouldn’t have a pet—well, it wasn’t a pet. It was a squatter that gave him hell and ate his food and shed everywhere. Maybe keep his feet warm at night, if he was luckily. Most of the times it tried to suffocate him in his sleep by lying across his face or neck.

Gold was pulled away from his thoughts when the door to his shop opened, the bell ringing cheerfully. He turned around on his stool and steepled his hands together. Regina Mills came striding in, glaring daggers like she usually did. With a mental sigh he pulled out his best yet lazy fiendish smirk. “Evening, Madam Mayor. How may I be of help?”

“Let’s cut to the chase, Gold,” the woman growled. “I’m here about that four legged menace.”

He blinked once, but didn’t dare show his confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

The mayor’s hateful gaze was unwavering. “I’ve been finding little… _gifts_ , in my garden. My plants smell like ammonia. And, this morning—“ Regina angrily slammed a object onto his counter. “I stepped in this!”

“Oh, well, that certainly is a gift, isn’t it?”

A black leather heel, clearly expensive and well made, had been presented before him. The insides of the shoe was smooth pale leather, but it wasn’t flawless. Inside was a pile of brown dried goo, spotted with hair and saliva. Gold wanted to laugh aloud, but kept himself contained.

“I didn’t know you had a cat, madam.”

“I don’t!” She nearly yelled. “That blasted cat has got to go. It’s feral, probably rabid, and needs to be put down.”

Gold would agree. God, he would. He _should_. He really fucking should.

But something stopped him.

“Well, as far as I know it doesn’t froth at the mouth,” he commented softly, glancing upward to the shelves behind him. Regina, quirking one eyebrow, followed his gaze until she saw what he was looking at.

“Oh Lord, you actually kept it?”

“It’s not mine,” he grumbled. “Feel free to catch it. Be my guest.”

“You get it down! I’m not climbing up there.”

“Me? With my bag leg? You’re cute, dearie.”

The cat hissed, making them both jolt. Regina glared at them both, before snatching up her barfed-on shoe. “I’m taking this to animal control,” she threatened, before marching out with a flip of her hair.

“My dear,” Gold muttered with a rueful shake of his head, picking up his fountain pen, “if I was born a cat, I would do the same thing.”

The cat chirped in response.


	3. The Blue-Eyed Menace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ghostwriter107 prompted: _Regina decides that Graham is Animal Control and sends him around to collect the Blue-Eyed Menace. Of course, he still shares that sweet bond with her, and Gold feels a bit jealous when he sees how affectionate Cat is with the sheriff. When push comes to shove and the sheriff starts to leave with her, she shows her avid preference for Gold and he......_

“Mr. Gold.”

“Sheriff Graham.”

“I assume you know why I’m here?”

And Gold did know. Oh, and he had quite the crap-pot of feelings about it.

The young sheriff stood at his porch with his hands on his hips, looking as out-of-place as Gold felt. Though the other had a cat-sized crate in one hand, and a noose on a stick in the other. And really, he wasn't surprised to see the sheriff responding as "Animal Control". Storybrooke had no serious animal issues, just one small shelter, but that was it. Clearly, Regina saw that it was time for Cat to go. And Graham was the only one some-what qualified for the job. Why, though, the young man came here, was beyond him.

“I find it amusing you come here to catch the little beastie,” he comments, opening the door wider as if to show his cat-free house. “It’s not even mine.”

“Yes,” Graham mused. “Yet I can’t really picture you without her, Mr. Gold.”

“Humph.”

“Meow!” Yowled the last voice he wanted to hear. Instantly, both men turned toward the source of the noise. Which was right by his feet.

Cat came waltzing out with her back stretched up, yawning from her earlier cat-nap on the back of the sofa by the window. Before it decided to become his own little poltergeist, he kept the curtains closed to keep his treasures from sun damage, but Cat seemed to dislike that, and somehow managed to pull them open when he wasn’t around. 

Damn cat.

Meowing again, it brushed up against his leg slyly as it crept out of his home, eyes pinned on the sheriff with a pleased little expression. 

“Well,” the sheriff said, dropping the animal noose to squat down on his heels. “She doesn’t look feral or rabid.”

“If one counts getting hair on my suits as feral, then you might want to change that statement.”

Graham shrugged and reached out to pluck the little beastie up, of which Gold found startling. Cat only let Henry pick her—it! It had no place in his heart!—up, but clearly the sheriff was an exception. _Not so loyal now, are we?_ Gold wondered to himself with an internal sneer. Mostly to ignore the burn in his heart at the site of Cat rubbing herself all over the sheriff like some four legged floozy. 

“I’ll get out of your hair, sir,” the young man said politely. He turned to the crate and opened the door. “The mayor wants to see that this little girl gets home.”

“Home being the afterlife?”

Graham looked aghast. “No—“

“You and I both know if it’s a pest that Ms. Mills wants gone, she gets rid of it.”

The young man gulped and readjusted his hold on Cat. “You know, Mr. Gold, if you want to keep her you can claim her as your property.”

Gold scoffed. “It’s not mine,” he repeated himself. “Just get it off _my_ property.” 

“Alright,” the other said, before pulling Cat from his chest to put her in the crate.

Right before she hissed.

It startled the sheriff as much as it did Gold, causing the young man to drop the feline. The four legged menace hissed against and dashed inside, darting past Gold without so much as a rub on his leg. Not like he was expecting it or anything.

And then came a game of cat-and-mouse, but the mouse was in place of the cat and was human. Gold winced and kept himself from yelling at the sheriff who was only doing his job, though much of his furniture was nearly knocked over in the process.

When the adrenaline-worn sheriff came up for air from the chase, he had Cat on the end of the noose, like a pet at the end of leash. She hissed and yowled, fighting frantically when Graham had to drag her out of the house.

Gold stood by. Watching. Waiting. ~~Worried.~~

Graham managed to toss cat into the crate and slam the door, panting up a storm. Turning to Gold, he said, “I can see why Regina wanted her away from the children now.”

“Hmm.”

Cat yowled sadly from her cage _~~and it just bit at his soul~~_ —

“Wait,” Gold cut out, like a knife through butter. “I’ve changed my mine.” 

Curious, Graham turned to him with one brow raised. From the cage, looking out with wide, wide blue eyes, was the blasted cat. She cried out again, sticking out one tiny white paw and waving it around in the air, as if reaching for him. Having seen enough (and really, wasn’t this animal abuse? He wasn’t about to get blamed if Cat turned out to have a broken bone from the sheriff’s lack of carefulness), Gold bent down and snatched the lock on the crate open, letting the blasted thing free.

She bolted to him, meowing pitifully and trying to entwine itself between his legs.

Gold really needed to get over this flee bag.

He looked to the sheriff, serious-faced. “I’m claiming her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to prompt me! In the comments or at my tumblr!


End file.
